The White Hats
by Shadow-Ocelot
Summary: A posse of ruthless renegades spell trouble for an out of the way Mojave township and the Courier and her band of heroes may be their only hope. Meanwhile she and Raul have some personal issues to work out. -Sequel to WitD-
1. Renegades

Obligatory Disclaimer: Own New Vegas, I do not.

Author's Notes: Well, this is the story I promised as the sequel to my one-shot "Whistling in the Dark." Is is necessary to read that story to get this one? Uh, not really, but if you want to understand the dynamics of the relationship with this Courier and Raul it is highly recommended. To those that have already read it, finally here I am. During the course of this story the two will finally be forced to come to terms with their emotions dealing with each other as well as endeavoring to save a small out of the way town. I'm a big fan of westerns both new and old and so this is also a story that's kind of a homage to the idea of the heroic gunslingers depicted in them. Note that the prologue begins elsewhere but the first chapter brings us back to the Courier. I hope you enjoy!

A Little Background on the Title: "The White Hats" is a nod to the older black and white westerns where the audience would know who the bad guys were and who the good guys were because of the hats that they wore. The heroes of the story would be known to wear white ones, while the bad guys would sport black ones.

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><p><strong>xxx <span>THE WHITE HATS<span> xxx  
><strong>

**0. Renegades**

Tendrils of smoke spiraled up into the sky to dance a ghostly ballet among the stars. Like some ethereal entities gifted with their own consciousness the grey mists seemed to be alive, weaving in and out of each other on the breeze. The creaking of wood grinding against itself on hand-crafted joints accompanied a similar groan, this one from a man who was about as old as this antique. Samuel Ralston had been a citizen of Firedale since before his birth, and upon being brought into this world had been the first born there. In all his seventy-two years he'd seen many things come to pass, including civilization's attempt to grasp once more this lonely stretch of desert. But civilization was something he'd come to view as ephemeral and passing, especially here, and one always had to be on the lookout for trouble.

Through the smoke of his cigar he saw trouble walking towards him on ten feet. It wasn't some poor mutated desert creature, though he wished it were, for that could have been taken care of with a few well-aimed scattergun shots. Oh no, this was a more dangerous creature type: men. He squinted at the approaching posse and after a few moments of study reached down to put out his cigar. Turning to the girl sitting next to him he said, "Ruth, you go on inside an' get Bisbee. Young's back."

"It looks like he's brought more friends this time." Nervousness twisted the waitress' face as she skewed her mouth, teeth biting her bottom lip. A few days before Young had wandered into town with a couple companions and had proceeded to cause quite a stir in the saloon where she worked and lived. Sheriff Bisbee was forced to throw the drunks out and send them on their way. The memory of their drunken violence was enough to have her heed Sam's warnings, the recollection of Young's cold eyes was what sent her inside at a hurried pace. Out of the three he had only had one drink and although he hadn't participated in the row had seemed more dangerous than the other two.

"Evenin' there." Young called out to the Elder Ralston in a causal, conversational tone. He held a cigarette between his smiling lips. One hand was stuffed in one of his pockets while the other lifted in a brief greeting.

"Mhm." Ralston grunted, nodding his head once in a return greeting. "Though I'd say night is more appropriate than evening." He raised his wrinkled face up to the sky where a fingernail moon hung in the corner of the sky like a bent nail.

Young let out a strange laugh. His head tilted back as he howled with glee before returning his attention back to the older man. "That it is, that it is." Ralston followed his movements as he started to climb the porch to the saloon, wary of the unpredictable troublemaker. He'd known his type before, back when the Mojave was still wild – or rather, _wilder_. Of course, back then they were a dime a dozen, whether they be renegades who'd seen one too many holotapes or chemed out raiders that were little more than savages. Young was much like the previous type, more dangerous a threat because he had smarts, possibly even a reason for being there.

It wasn't by chance he'd come to their little town. Holding back conspiracy theories Ralston would just assume he was a youth on a power trip. Firedale was a little burg, and although it wasn't that far from the likes of places like the NCR's Mojave Outpost it was far enough set back from the main roads to be ignored for a long period of time. He'd never thought of it before, but what usually had kept them safe had also been something that at times had threatened them. Their isolation.

The double screen doors that hung as the portal to the saloon's innards squealed opened. A tall, broad-shouldered, dusty-haired man stepped out. On his breast was clipped a rusted badge. Sheriff Bobby Bisbee. "I believe I told you it would be wise to mosey along." Bisbee said, not quite looking at Young as he pulled out a cigarette of his own and placed it between his lips. Young followed the other man's hand as it reached into his pocket and retrieved a bent lighter, on which the letters R.B. were inscribed crudely as if traced with a knife or ice pick. The Sheriff flicked the lighter open and then struck the flint, the flames licking up along the tip of his cigarette. The light caught the hard lines of his eyes and settled in the minute wrinkles at the edges.

"I _had_ considered it," Young replied, "but you know, I just liked this little town so much I decided that maybe I wanted to stay."

Bisbee sucked in a breath of tobacco, exhaled smoke into the air, and then leveled his eyes on Young. "Well, ain't that just too bad? We're a small town and we don't really have room for the likes of you."

Young laughed again, but this time it was a dark laugh full of malice. He shook his head at the ground and placed a hand on his hip. "The likes of me?" He repeated, as if that phrase was a great joke. Then the smile dropped from his face. The abrupt expression change was accompanied by the quick twitch of his hand as he pulled his gun from the holster at his side and aimed it right at the sheriff. Bisbee reached for his own gun. Seconds separated their movements and not in Bisbee's favor. A 10 mm round struck him in the stomach.

Pain doubled him over, fingers clutching at the site of the injury. Still he raised his pistol at the marauder. "Son of a bitch!" His finger pressed upon the trigger as Young stepped up to him and twisted his boot on the bullet wound and kicked him back. Bisbee staggered, his back slamming into the wall and his arm jerked upwards, causing his shot to fire into the sky instead of into his target. Young growled, drawing his arm back to gain momentum for a violent swing of his arm as he whipped Bisbee in the side of his head with the butt of his gun.

During the short-lived battle Ralston had tried to find a moment to intervene. No matter what he did he was sure it would end badly being outnumbered the way they were. With Bisbee crumpled in agony on the wooden planks, bleeding profusely he was worried that if he didn't do something Young was going to kill him. While Young was busy with the downed sheriff Ralston dropped his arm beside him to grip the shotgun he kept there. Seeing the movement Young swung around and aimed his barrel at his head. "I wouldn't do that old man. I have no quarrel with you… not yet."

Ralston released the gun and held up his hands a little to make sure Young understood he wasn't going to try anything else. "We don't want problems here."

"Well then," Young told him, "I guess you better spread the word of who's in charge now." He put his weapon away and stepped over the prone lawman to the doors. Over his shoulder he called to his men, "I'm feelin' generous tonight, boys. Drinks on the new Mayor!"

Whooping and hollering the men disappeared inside the saloon. He felt bad for Val, the owner, but there were more pressing matters at the moment to attend to. When the sound of chairs being dragged and feet being propped up drifted outside he knelt next to the injured man. "Come on, Bisbee, can you walk?" He helped him to sit up against the wall, Bisbee's head lolling down weakly. Likely he was disoriented from the blow he had taken to the head.

The sheriff groaned in pain as Ralston threw one of his arms around his shoulders and tried to get him to stand. The older man felt his back already beginning to protest, followed closely by a screaming in his joints as he heaved Bisbee up. "Come on now, youngster, help an old man out. I know you can do it." Ralston urged, hoping his pep talk would give Bisbee some extra strength. He knew that despite his own pain Bisbee needed to get medical attention. Stomach wounds weren't immediately fatal, but every passing moment they lingered meant another that Young might change his mind and come back to take Bisbee out.

As the two staggered out into the dust-swept street Ralston caught movement in the grimy window of Roth's General Store. It was the young shop owner himself standing in the dark, watching with curious and worried interest. When Roth saw he'd been spotted he stepped outside and raised his hand to hail the elderly resident. "Oi! What happened there, Sam?"

"Young came back and shot Bisbee." Ralston informed. Roth had been in the Saloon the first time Young had come to town and had been one of the ones to help toss him and his goons out. Immediately Roth's brows knit together with dread. His eyes turned up to the street and back to the Saloon and then behind him. Most likely his wife was waiting inside, further in the dark, waiting to hear what the shooting was about. Ralston could tell Roth was worried for his family's safety so he shifted Bisbee a little bit and added, "don't worry right now, they're busy ordering drinks. Do me a favor and go get Nancy!"

Jacob Roth was always a community man, close to being an honorary deputy. Helping out in Firedale was something he was always willing to do so it was no surprise when he turned again to motion to his wife Angie that he was running down to Nannette's shack to get the nurse. Then without another word he closed his shop door and took off down the street.

"S-Sam…" Bisbee murmured. His head swiveled to the left to look at him, a similar dread written in his eyes. "I didn't want to worry anybody, but I had Nash follow Young last time he left, you know, to make sure he was gone—" Another groan of pain interrupted him, and when Ralston tried to shush him Bisbee shook his head and continued. "Nash… He said that Young met up with a much larger group. About twelve or so men. Looked like they were planning somethin'. I think we're in trouble, Sam."

So what Ralston considered earlier could be true, that Young was there for a premeditated purpose. What concerned him was why? How did he even know about Firedale, much less find it useful? Something about this whole situation set him ill at ease, and not just because a criminal had just laid claim to his hometown. If someone didn't do something soon changes were coming to their little corner of the Mojave – bad ones.


	2. Wheels of the Mojave

Author's Notes: I tried my best with Raul, but I fear I'm not any good with writing the Mexican/Spanish accent**, **however I tried to retain as much of his personality and speech patterns as I could. Hopefully imagination can fill in the rest. I will endeavor to try to make it better. Enjoy chapter 1.

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><p><strong>1. Wheels of the Mojave<strong>

"In your face, Craig Boone!" The Courier exclaimed, a bright smile lighting up her features as she dropped her cards down onto the table in front of them. She was sure she had won this time. They'd been sitting around the kitchen table playing cards for the good part of an hour now, and so far the total had come to Boone – 4, Cass – 2, and Jocelyn – 0. She didn't consider herself competitive but damn it was nice to win once in a while. Leaning back in her chair she crossed her arms behind her head as she enjoyed her victory. "Two. Pair."

"Well, Jo," Boone studied her cards for a moment before putting his own down and taking a drink of the water sitting next to him, "it looks like you finally got me."

"That's because I just let you guys win all those times. I'm really a poker _master_." The raven-haired girl said with a smug expression. She held that look for only a few seconds before she started to laugh. Across the table Boone just shook his head with a smirk and Cass rolled her eyes. Jo wasn't a poker master, in fact she was one of the world's worst liars and had a terrible poker face.

At the very end of the table where Raul Tejada sat with the pieces of Jo's shotgun spread out on a cloth he lifted his eyes to regard her attempt at humor with a smile of his own. "We are so lucky that our benefactor is _such_ a philanthropist."

Catching the touch of teasing sarcasm in his tone Jo replied, feigning personal hurt, "oh, I see how it is. I slave to bring you people together, form a _family_, help you overcome your personal shortcomings and what do I get? Scathing remarks! Of all people, Raul," she gestured dramatically at the ghoul with her arms and then went to grab at her heart, as if struck with a bullet; "I did not expect this from you!" With a last flourish she cried, "You might as well just stab me for real and get it over with!" and draped herself over the table like she was dead.

Cass laughed at Jo's theatrics. It wasn't odd for her to act so strangely or even throw herself into a vivid fit of craziness. Some might have found it irritating or immature, but anyone that knew her was aware that most of it was likely due to her desire to make others smile and keep them in high spirits. The wasteland was a dark place, and to the residents of the Lucky 38 it was even darker as they moved further into the drama that plagued the Mojave. Boone tapped the girl on the head, "ok, dead girl, you're laying all over the cards."

Immediately she shot up and stuck out her tongue at the sniper. "Oh, boo. You're no fun." With a wide grin she turned her head and winked at Raul, who had obviously been the intended target of her playfulness in the first place. Boone was thankful for that because that meant things were getting back to normal between his two companions. He didn't know what had happened, but after a short trip to Novac to retrieve the last of his possessions from his old apartment they had begun to act unlike themselves around each other. For a couple weeks Jo had been skittish, even to the point of avoiding Raul. The ghoul on the other hand had just seemed hyper aware of her presence. During that time the pair, who Boone would have usually called 'attached at the hip' had spent little time together. Slowly they had seemed to be returning to normal but Boone was left to wonder what had caused the temporary rift in their friendship.

Any further thought on the matter was interrupted by the familiar sound of the elevator doors opening out in the small entryway. A few moments later Veronica poked her head in the kitchen door and leaned in. "Hey, Raul…"

Raul turned his attention to the young woman.

"Uh, there's someone downstairs that brought a letter for you. He says it's important that he talks to you." Veronica looked puzzled. As soon as her words were out Raul matched her expression. Not many, if any, knew where he was. Furthermore he had no idea why someone would have a reason to contact him. When Veronica handed him a folded and sealed document he opened it without hesitation.

When he was finished he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. "You say the man that brought this is downstairs?" He asked. Veronica nodded. Without another word he brushed passed her and went to the elevator. Concerned, Jo followed. She'd watched as his face had melted from confusion to realization and then to intense worry. Something was really wrong.

Right before the doors were about to close she caught the doors and slipped inside. "Is everything ok?"

"No." He answered. For a moment she believed he wasn't going to say anything else, but when he glanced at her and saw the inquisitive and concerned look on her face he sighed and elaborated. "There's trouble in the town an old friend lives in. It sounds serious." He then handed her the letter in his hand. If there were anybody in this world he was willing to share this surprise blow with it would be Jo. She was exactly the type of person that would be needed in this situation. It was an odd feeling, knowing that months ago he might have second thought his decision to investigate this trouble, but since he'd met her his life had gotten a little more exciting. In a way it reminded him slightly of his youth and the trouble he'd get himself into not long after he'd lost his family. Only, with Jo, the trouble they were involved in was a deal more purposeful. With the same reason they sought evil-doers on their travels he intended to get to the bottom of the siege in Firedale.

Jo scanned the letter quickly, only half-through when the elevator opened upon the ground Casino floor. Sitting patiently on the steps across from the elevator doors was a young man in a pair of coveralls and a wide-brimmed hat. He jumped to his feet upon seeing the two exiting. The movement drew Jo's eyes from the paper. The man swept his hat off his head and held it to his chest, turning his attention to Raul. "Are you Mr. Tejada?"

"I am. Would you like to explain how you got this letter?"

"I'm a soldier stationed at the Mojave Outpost –"

"_You're_ a soldier?" Jo said. If Raul hadn't known her better he would have thought she was being patronizing, but he noticed her studying the visitor's clothing. He looked more like a caravaneer or a blue-collar worker.

The man paused and looked at her, "yes, ma'am."

"I didn't think you guys ever left there. Weren't supposed to. And where's your uniform?" Jo was on a roll with her blunt interrogation this morning. Raul put a hand on her shoulder, a silent message to turn it down a notch. This man didn't seem like their enemy. Still, it was rare for strangers to come inside the Lucky 38, one of the few places Jo considered safe, so it made sense she felt vulnerable and therefore edgy when it came to someone entering her territory, especially when that someone was the bearer of some type of bad news. Reminding her of his presence there might calm her a bit.

"Because of everything that you and your people have done for the NCR Ranger Jackson allowed me to bring this message to you." The soldier glanced around the casino nervously, unsure of his surroundings. This was definitely an infamous building, the residents becoming as equally famous.

"Maybe we can sit down and you can tell us what happened." Raul motioned to a table that was nearby and put a guiding hand on Jo's back, indicating he believed this to be the best decision for the group. Without much resistance she agreed with a nod.

When they were seated the soldier began his story from the beginning. "There was a man that arrived a few days at the outpost. He looked extremely worse for wear. Surprisingly it wasn't the bullet wounds that took him down but a radscorpion sting. We had him taken inside and administered anti-venom. When he woke up he was more than a little reluctant to share his experiences with us, insisting almost obsessively that he had to be on his way. Of course his injuries were too severe to just be walking around the desert so we convinced him to stay. He's there now recuperating. He made us promise to find the man he was delivering a letter to and when we heard your name we knew it'd be no trouble to track you down." Very true. Although Raul kept a pretty low profile there were those out there that did know his name due to his link with Jo. More than once they'd found themselves out at the outpost doing odd jobs.

"So this man, he is all right?"

"Oh yeah. He'll be completely fine. We just felt it was a better idea for him to rest than to be out there wandering around. He's young so he should heal fine."

"Young?" Apparently the man who brought the letter was not the writer because by this time Sam had to have been up in years, not that he was a spring chicken back when Raul had met him in the first place.

"Yes, sir. Not much older than me." This soldier barely looked a day over twenty, if that.

"Well, thank you for coming all the way to the strip." Jo finally spoke again. During the man's story and following short discussion she had finished reading the letter and now folded it back carefully and passed it back to Raul, the entire time keeping her eyes on the young man before them. "If there's nothing else we can take it from here."

The man said there was nothing more and Jo dismissed him as politely as possible before heading back to the elevator. "_We_ can take it from here?" Raul questioned as he stepped in beside her. "I guess I was mistaken when I thought I only saw my name on that letter."

"Victor, the suite please." Jo told the securitron and then lifted her eyes to Raul, mouth quirking up in a playful smirk. "Yes, we. Its cute how you thought I was going to let you go by yourself." She reached up and patted his cheek gently.

The last touch was a lingering one. As her hand slipped away he fought the urge to grasp it between his own and hold it against his skin. For the passed three weeks he had struggled with the memory of that night in Novac, but once more, like he had then, he decided that any actions not within the field of friendship would likely end badly. Neither one could afford a failed affair and furthermore he would not jeopardize what they did have by complicating it. He was sure she was just infatuated, although he couldn't tell if it was a continuing emotion or if it had just been a spur of the moment passion. "Are you sure you want to come along?"

"Yeah!" She answered. "Of course, I would appreciate if you'd put my baby back together before we go. I mean, I can't fight off marauding town-jackers with my charms alone."

Raul chuckled at her reaction and following wit. Asking if she were sure was probably a foolish question. Never had he seen her turn her back to anyone in need. "I will put your gun back together. Then we leave. I want to reach the outpost as soon as possible and talk to the man who brought this letter from Firedale. I'm sure more has happened since it was written and we should make sure we know what we're going into."

Jo agreed. "See this why I keep you around. You think of everything."

"And here I thought it was because of my dashing good looks."

-X-

The band of two became a band of six as the other members of Jo's motley crew insisted upon accompanying them despite not knowing the full story. It was not lost on Raul how quickly people fell into trusting Jo; fell into trusting each other because of the association with her. Almost immediately it was understood that if any one of them had a problem it became a problem for the rest of them. Boone even made them go by and convince Arcade Gannon to come along in case someone got hurt, which someone undoubtedly would in a situation like this. Although having some kind of backup should be favorable in this kind of battle the old ghoul could help feeling uncomfortable with the thought of involving so many people in his own troubles.

They had walked most of the day, which was abnormal since Jo preferred to travel at night due to the extreme fairness of her skin. The usual complaints of heat or sun were absent from the pale ghost of a courier as she plodded along beside him, dark eyes shielded from UV rays with a pair of big tinted sunglasses and the cowboy hat she usually wore. Afternoon had passed them and the sun was rapidly dipping over the horizon into a palette of warm oranges and reds outlined with a cool blanket of dark blues. Stars had yet to breach that blanket however it would not be long before they broke out like a glittering plague across the sky.

It was then Jo lifted her head to the view and stopped them for the third time, claiming she was tired again and might they stop for rest. But Jo wasn't tired. _He_ was. She could read him like a blind man read brail; only he wasn't lucky enough to feel the constant brush of her fingertips over the surface of his pages. He remembered then something he had said to her when they had first met, something about how he was an open book, except that that book was in Spanish and the pages happened to be falling out. Still she took that book and lovingly tried to piece it together and instead of placing it on the shelf to collect dust carried it with her like a beloved classic.

Times like those, where he saw the devoted care she took in looking out for him that he yearned with such raw emotion for the rest of the world to just fall away and leave the two of them alone. On the flip side of that it was also a reminder of not only his condition but also his age. The fact she felt she needed to look out for him stung deeper than any wound he'd ever received. It filled him with a bitterness he resented, for it made him angry with her for no reason other than her accidentally damaging his pride. Or maybe 'pride' wasn't the word for it, but he could not think of it.

"You don't have to do that." He told her as she handed him some water. Out of the corner of his vision he saw the others sitting together apart from he and Jo. Perhaps on a primal level they could sense his deep desires to be alone with her and heeded it unknowingly. Perhaps he was imagining things.

"Do what?" Jo asked innocently, lips hovering over the mouth of her own bottle.

"You know what." He insisted, and then added, voice lowering as he stepped closer to her, "I'm fine, Jo."

The girl frowned and looked at the ground. "You're pushing yourself too hard. You're no good to anyone if you die of heatstroke or make yourself too sore." The last bit was the kicker and the proof she paid way more attention to him than anyone else ever had. The pain he'd been feeling in his joints, the ache that traveled all throughout his muscles and burned until it began to slow his pace had been one he thought he had kept hidden. Apparently not.

"I'm fine." Raul repeated. "I've been traveling these deserts longer than you've been alive and so far I've managed just fine. Give me a little credit." He laid a hand on her shoulder reassuringly and gave her a bit of a smile. She tried to smile back, but behind it he could see the uncertainty.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I just worry, you know. You're…"

Still smiling, albeit with a touch of depreciation he finished for her, "Old? I know. I think this body knows its passed its expiration date, no?"

The Courier's face angled into sharp lines of woe at his comment. Her hand reached out to grab his and hold it gently, beseechingly. "No, Raul, that's not what I meant at all. I… I want you to know your really important to me is all. I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to you."

This time the smile fell away and was replaced by one of his more serious expressions. He covered her hand with his other one and patted it. "God willing, boss, but you know the wheels of the Mojave don't always roll the direction we want them to." He didn't want to say such things to her; they upset her. However, the reality was that bad things happened here in this world and she would have to be ready to accept them if they happened to them, happened to _him_. For a few moments she closed her eyes tight, her body swayed, and her feet shuffled anxiously through the dirt and gravel. When she finally opened her eyes again and gazed up at him he could read the silent yearning there as if he was looking in a mirror. Jo wanted desperately to reach out to him but was too afraid, whether it be because she didn't want to alert the others that she was upset by a sudden embrace or because she was still nervous about what had almost happened between them. Either way he hated the fear that stayed them in place not a foot from each other.

With a determined look Jo murmured, "Then I'll just have to find some way to slash its tires." It was partially a joke, partially serious. Regardless he shook his head with a sigh.

"Jo, you've got a pout that would make a toddler jealous."

"Really, now? You gonna give me a big speech on proper wasteland maturity now, _Dad_?" She stood with her hands on her hips, one cocked a little to the side as she smirked up at him. Raul flinched at her badly placed crack.

"Don't call me that. _Por favor._"

"What? Dad? Oh wait, that's right, isn't the appropriate term _Papi_ or something in Spanish? Do you want me to call you that instead?" The grin on her face was growing, the wicked curve to her lips sharp and sensual. It was an expression that didn't belong on her usually innocent and youthful face. It also stirred something within him that he violently quelled.

"First you look like a child and now you're acting like one." Raul attempted to sound disappointed in her, feigning disdain for her newfound teasing.

Jo took another step so that they were almost touching. She had to crane her head up even further to address him. "Maybe I just need to be punished then. I've always heard spanking is a good disciplinary tool."

_Goddamnit._ "Jo, this isn't the time—"

He was interrupted by the sudden grip of her fingers on the front of his shirt. "Its never the time, Raul." Jo hissed. There was anger in her tone but not all of it was at him, in fact very little of it seemed to be directed at him at all. The target seemed to be the eternal clock itself. "I've been trying to talk to you for three weeks, but I was too scared and now – now we're probably walking into some heavy shit and I don't want to do that without getting some things off my chest, okay?"

The ghoul knew exactly what she wanted to talk about and truly he wasn't ready to discuss it. Novac. Such a small little village in the middle of the Mojave, just a pass-through really, but it had become an infamous place to him, etched in memory by the world's most beautiful sculptor. It had been both dream and nightmare. Placing both hands on each one of her shoulders he calmed her, "we've done more dangerous things than this. When we come back fine you will feel foolish for getting so worked up. We can talk about this when we return, yes?"

She wanted to object. Dissent radiated from her tense form, trembled through her body. Finally she relented. "You promise?"

"I give you my word." He told her, palms cupping the sides of her face. She lifted her hands and covered both of his. "Now, let's get this band of crazies on the road."

Jo nodded and extricated herself from his grasp, though he could feel the reluctance when she released him. She bent and swung her pack up from the ground and over her shoulder before heading over to the others to get them moving. When she was only a few steps away from him she turned back around and caught his gaze. "Raul, what are you so afraid of?"

"Ah, amiga, once more you see right through me." He admitted; it was getting hard to hide anything from her. "But _now_ is not the time for this conversation."

"Of course its not." She replied bitterly.

She finally walked away and Raul was left with his thoughts. He loathed to see Jo upset and missed the bright smiles she had seemed to always carry with her. Those smiles, that bright light that had shined so intensely from her, had disappeared again. This time he feared it was his fault. Yet he would stand his ground on his decision – at least for now. It was what was best in the long run, wasn't it?

…_Wasn't it?_

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><p>Well, that's the end of the Chapter 1. It was kind of short, and didn't go as intended, but I think that it worked out fine. R&amp;R.<p>

Next Chapter: The group arrives at the Mojave Outpost and Raul has a talk with the impromptu mailman.


	3. Middle of Nowhere

Waterpeach4 I'm glad to have made you happy with this story! I'm quite excited about it, too. And its a real compliment to know my original characters for Firedale were interesting and understandable. They're, of course, going to be a big part of this tale and if they didn't have dimension it wouldn't be much of a story. : ) I hope you continue to enjoy it.

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><p><strong>2. Middle of Nowhere<strong>

Nighttime in the Mojave was usually reserved for the brave and foolish. Most folks chose to retreat indoors as the sun dipped behind the horizon, bathing the landscape in oily obscurity. Things hid in the darkness, and so could people. Between mutated creatures, raiders, and along the NCR borders Legion patrols, sundown was a dangerous time. Only in places such as the Strip where they had heavy guard and were deep within the confines of what semblance of civilization the post-nuclear world had to offer remained alive at night. Despite being out of the way the Mojave outpost was one of those few settlements, mostly because it was charged with being one of the lines of defense against the Legion and other desert dangers. As Jo finished the long climb from the broken highway below the usual sight greeted her eyes, familiar and comforting after so long being in transit. Mostly she enjoyed the emptiness of the desert, which provided a quiet solace from her troubles, but tonight the troubles would remain until her companion's business was taken care of; or at least the first part of it.

Brahmin lowed in the pen to the right as their human masters slept on under the watch of the NCR soldiers. Some of those soldiers milled about on patrol duty while another group was gathered around a table set up behind the sandbags, laughing and probably playing caravan. Although these weren't the things that caught her eye the most. It was the silvery glint of a gun barrel just barely poking over the edge of the closest building as the moonlight caught the metal. Subtlety she lifted her hand to Ranger Ghost who she knew was watching their approach from the rooftops. Ever since Jo had brought the news of Nipton to her the ranger had been even more vigilant to any movement during the dark hours she was on watch. The courier did not blame her.

"Thought I might be seeing you." A voice from behind them sounded. Jo had heard it dozens of times but tonight she was startled, mind everywhere except where her body was. Sgt. Kilborn advanced on their position from the shadows of the NCR monument. Once more their generators were on the fritz and the lights that illuminated the gigantic sculpture were not present. If they had been working Jo told herself she would have seen him there. Still, that was no excuse for getting lazy.

"It's been a while." Jo's lips curled into a smile she didn't feel inside. Nervous, she ran a hand through her shoulder-length black hair. It made her suddenly aware of how wind-blown and in disarray she must have looked so she just dropped her hand again.

"Indeed it has." Kilborn replied. "Shame it takes a mess to get you back out here."

"Busy in Vegas, you know." Jo shifted her weight from left foot to right foot and then back again. She knew that Kilborn didn't mean to make her feel guilty about it, as proven by the good-natured grin on his face, but she still felt the weight of it press upon her, mostly because in her own conscience she knew that she _had_ been neglecting her friends at the NCR, and for reasons that she knew would make them very unhappy. Every time she ran into one of acquaintances from the NCR it made her feel that much worse, like she was lying through her teeth even when she wasn't. Working for House didn't entail burning villages or taking hostages, yet when faced with the trusting soldiers she had come to know she felt as bad as a Legion spy.

Thankfully Raul read these situations like a pro and stepped up to intervene. He was the only one who knew that Jo had already chosen her allegiances and the only one who knew the turmoil that brought her. Seeing the building anxiety he interrupted under pretense of their business there. "I, uh, assume that Ranger Jackson would be the man to talk to about the injured wastelander that was brought here?"

"Oh yeah, that poor young man." Kilborn said, obviously thinking back on the occurrence. "When we first saw him he looked like he was shot full of holes, blood all over the place. But it looked worse than what it was. Last time I checked Jackson's still in his usual place in the HQ. I think he put the man on a cot in one of the back rooms. Quiet back there you know."

"Mm." Raul nodded his head. "Gracias." He placed a guiding hand on the small of Jo's back and gently nudged her towards the gate leading to the command post. She didn't hesitate at his touch and gave a quick smile to Kilborn before completely turning around. Raul didn't remove his hand until they were passed the sandbags, and although she immediately missed the reassuring pressure of it the calm remained like a steady unseen force that wrapped her in warmth.

Boone stopped them just inside the gates with a gruff interjection and looked up at the roof of the barracks building. "Probably not my place to come along," he told Raul, "if you don't mind I'm going to go check up on some NCR news with Ghost." Boone had taken to soldier gossip with Ghost whenever they did make it out to the outpost. He might not have been on active duty anymore or even officially with the NCR but that part of him would never die. The ghoul nodded with a slight tilt of his head to let the sniper know it was ok. He understood and was even appreciative for the forethought.

"In that case, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic," Cass said, "I think I'm going to go have a drink for old time's sake. Anyone with me?" Veronica would follow despite assurances that she wasn't in the mood for alcohol and Arcade headed that way also rubbing his weary eyes and muttering something about finding a bed to crash in. Not everyone were night people like Jo, and even though Arcade could roam the dark wastes with the best of them he'd been up since early that morning working on a personal project and looked like he was about to collapse right there.

"Have a good nap." Jo patted him on the back.

"Nap?" He blinked at her with a wry smile, "Coma more like…"

"Pleasant coma then, doc." She grinned back, shaking her head. She watched four out of her five comrades disappear to their destinations as her face melted back into a vacant expression of thoughtfulness. She appeared to be looking far away, passed the barracks, the Mojave, maybe even the world. Standing in the middle of the outpost, even with the chatter of soldiers, mercenaries, and merchants she felt lost in the scheme of things. They might have been there because something terrible was happening in a little town she'd never heard of but the only thing she could think about was the man beside her and how he might as well have been millions of miles away. She felt she should have never tried what she did back in Novac, for the memory haunted her wakeful moments and filled her with a regret. She'd killed an integral part of their friendship that night, hadn't she?

At first she had thought the situation had just taken Raul by surprise and that he'd come around and they'd talk about it. As the weeks passed she was beginning to think that maybe he just was trying to spare her a talk that would end in him telling her he wasn't interested and that he was sorry. The words 'it was a mistake' from him would be a knife in her heart, but she wanted it over with now. She wanted it to go back to the way it was before, where she could hide her desires to touch him behind the embraces of friendship and camaraderie. Sadly she feared that wasn't an option; maybe she had messed things up permanently. Maybe—

"Jo?"

"Huh?" The girl snapped out of her rapidly crashing thoughts to look up at Raul. Concern was written across his features. How long had she been standing there not moving? "Oh, uh, maybe I'll just go with Cass. I think I need a drink."

As she started to go his hand caught her wrist. The grip wasn't rough, just enough to pause her. "Are you okay?"

"I should be. I just feel a little bad right now, you know?"

"Don't ever feel bad for taking a stand for what you believe. Sometimes that's all we have in this life."

Jo gave him a bittersweet smile. He thought she was still upset about the whole NCR/House debacle that rattled around in her head sometimes. Until then her discomfort with Kilborn had been lost amidst a greater rabble. Unless of course he was seeing the truth and was just displacing to make her feel better – or avoiding it. He seemed to be doing a lot of avoiding lately when it came to their personal issues. She couldn't tell which tonight. Whether it was because her lack of skill was diminished by personal grief or there was really nothing to read it was impossible to decipher him at the moment. Instead of trying to think anymore she just wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. He smelled of dust with a touch of grease and she knew that scent combination would always be both comforting and heartbreaking just because of him.

His hand smoothed down her hair as she pulled away and he said, "we should go take care of things before it gets too late."

"You want me to come with you?"

He smiled at her like that was a silly thing to say. "Of course I want you to come with me."

-X-

Ranger Jackson directed the pair to one of the back rooms where a small cot had been laid out, just like Kilborn had said. The man that lay asleep there was around Jocelyn's age, light brown hair sweeping across his forehead and down into his eyes. It made him seem younger somehow. It made the criss-crossing bandages that covered his shirtless torso more disheartening. As soon as the door opened, rusty hinges squeaking metal against metal, he roused and blinked a few times as the light spilled in from the hallway from around his visitors. "Wh-who's there? Jackson said it was all right if I was back here."

"We know." Raul stepped inside and the stark, florescent glow shifted from silhouetting his profile to brushing across him in waves of light and shadow, illuminating his face. He pulled the folded letter from his pocket and held it up for the injured man to see. "Jackson told us you were back here. You were the one that brought his for me, from Firedale?"

The brown-haired man suddenly sat straight up, "Oh!" and swung his legs over the edge of the cot. The movement aggravated his wounds and he hissed in pain before swaying like he was going to fall back over. Jo moved forward with fluid grace and grabbed a hold of him. She steadied his body with a hand on his back and the other on his knee. "Whoa! Not too fast there. You don't want to reopen any of those injuries you have."

Once he seemed okay he turned his head to look at her in confusion. "Who are you? Old Man Ralston didn't say nothing about no girl."

"This is a friend of mine." Raul informed.

Jo stood up and stretched out her hand in greeting, "Jocelyn Crane. Pleased to meet you."

"Ken Larabie, Miss Crane." The man introduced himself, taking her hand and shaking it a few times before releasing it.

"Jo, please." She smiled. "And we're sorry for waking you up. Its just really important that we talk with you."

"I understand. Don't worry about it. I've been sleeping all day anyway. They've pretty much had me cranked full of med-x." Ken ran his hands through his unruly hair, trying to comb it out. "Its nice to meet you," he looked up at Raul, "Ralston spoke very highly of you before he sent me off."

"Sam's always been generous with his compliments." Raul told him. "How is he?"

"Oh, he's just fine, at least he was when I left. He's pissed off as fuck though at Young. He's a dangerous man. I knew it the first second I laid eyes on him. I'm the bartender at Crown's Saloon. He wrecked the place something awful the night he came in. When he returned with more of his goons he beat the hell out of me for kicking him out. Val's probably got her hands full right now. They moved in like they owned the place. I'd finally had enough, but Ralston told me that I should just direct my energies elsewhere. I'd just get killed if I started another fight with them."

Wise advice. Raul knew Sam had had his fair share of trouble over the years. Hell, once he'd been a part of one of those troubles, which was probably why Sam was writing to him now. Raul wouldn't say it out loud but he was more than a little relieved to have Jo and the others along with him. He had been up in years when he'd first wandered into Firedale, but twenty years had come with a lot of changes, including a few more frailties that had appeared or worsened since his departure of the little settlement.

Ken continued, "that's when he told me to come see him late one night and not to let nobody see me. When I got there he had this letter all written out and told me about you and how you might be able to help or at least knew somebody that could. I tried to sneak out of town but one of Young's men, Trigger, caught me and we had a shoot out. That's how I got these bullet holes in me. I knew I had to keep going though. Everyone's countin on me to make it and damned if I'm going to let Young take over." He stopped talking for an instant and dropped his head. "There's this girl that works for Val, a waitress named Ruth. She's just 17. I'm afraid for her." His hands gripped the sheets on the bed, the pressure from his arms pushing down on the mattress making the springs creak in the cot. When he finally looked up he was in a state of controlled panic. "Please… are you going to help us?"

Raul felt Jo's eyes turn to him as well. From the quiet determination in her expression he could tell she already knew his answer because it was her's as well. "I'll help."

"Thank you!" Ken went to stand again. "Let me get my things and we can head out." This time it was Raul that put a hand on the man's shoulder to push him back.

"You're injured, son, I think it would be best to heal up before you go charging into some fight. Jo and I will head on out there tomorrow and you stay until they release you. We have some friends that came with us and we need someone to show them the way to Firedale. Can you do that?"

"But the doctor said it would be a couple weeks." Ken's face fell.

"Then maybe we'll have it all under control by the time you get home." Raul didn't know if that was true, but he hoped. If it was going to take more than two weeks to get Young out of Firedale they were going to have to do some fancy maneuvering while he and Jo were there. It was best to plan for long term. Once more he repeated his previous question. "Can you show our friends to Firedale when the time comes?"

"Yes, sir, I can."

"Good, now we'll leave you be so you can get back to your resting." Raul's fingers slipped around the door knob and nodded to Jo that it was time to leave. She gave Ken a quick rub on his back and a reassuring smile before heading to the door.

"Don't you worry, we'll get those assholes." When they were finally out of earshot Jo nudged Raul's elbow with her own, a wide grin curving her lips. "That was some nice bit of diplomacy there, keeping him here."

"I couldn't very well let him go off and get himself killed over some misguided heroics." He replied. "He'll do more good after he's healed up a bit. Meanwhile that gives Boone and the others time to prepare a little more and we can head up and do some recon work."

Jo agreed. "Coming at Young in two waves. Good plan. You're thinking we're not going to be able to fix this on our own, do you?"

"From the way Sam spoke in his letter I'm sure there's something more going on there. He can't peg it yet."

"Maybe we can. You know how I love detective work."

"That I do." Her enthusiasm was a little contagious despite the seriousness of Firedale's plight.

"Oh, Raul." Jo stopped in the middle of the hallway suddenly. "I wanted to apologize for earlier and if I sounded angry about wanting to talk to you. I just—this whole thing had really messed me up and I'm so afraid that I might lose you over this." Her hand crept up to worry with the zipper that ran down the front of his jumpsuit, fingers tracing it flipping it back and forth and her eyes focused on the action like she was too nervous to meet his.

That was exactly what Raul was afraid of, too. This girl who hadn't known him from Adam had waltzed into his life and made it all worth it again. Jo was his everything, however there was no way he was going to bring her into his world. It was darkness there, full of pain and tragedy. His burdens would smother her; it wasn't fair. "You won't lose me. Remember I told you I would always be here? I meant that." He couldn't fight the urge to touch her hair, each strand glittering in the overhead lights as they slipped through his fingers. He felt her hand lay flat against his chest for a moment, and then kneaded gently before tracing down across his stomach and over his hip. It stopped there and pressed warmly against him. He knew he should take a step back, remove her touch. The boundary between friendship and intimacy was being teased here. Still he was craving the affection from her too much. Raul leaned his head down and placed a kiss on her forehead. "I promised you, Jo. I didn't leave. I'm right here."

She nodded slowly before laying her head against his chest and putting her arms around him. Unlike the embrace they'd shared outside this one was more languid, deeper. A man could drown in the arms of a woman like this. He held her close and breathed her in. Her fingers danced along his spine and across his shoulders blades, drawing incomprehensible patterns of which spiraled into sensations that went straight to the core of his soul and tied his stomach in knots.

"I've dreamt before that you were gone. It scared the hell out of me."

"Those were just nightmares, mi cariño. Just nightmares."

* * *

><p><strong><span>Next Chapter<span>**: Raul and Jo head to Firedale and check out just what the town's become.


End file.
